


Lazy Mornings

by mintycarrots



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kunimi Akira-centric, Lazy Kunimi Akira, Out of Character, Pov change at the end, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintycarrots/pseuds/mintycarrots
Summary: It was practically a universally known fact that Kunimi Akira hated putting in effort. Waking up was not an exception.
Relationships: Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Lazy Mornings

“What the fuck do we do with him?” were the gracious words Akira awoke to, along with the curtains being thrown open. He winced at the sudden burst of light behind his eyelids and curled into a ball. 

“Kunimi. Kunimi-kun,” a hand reached out to tap his shoulder and he lets out an indescribable noise rumbling from his chest.

Akira cracks open an eye to see the vice captain squatted next to him, hand poised over his body, “Y-yes, Iwaizumi… san?”

“It’s nearly 10, and practice is in half an hour, okay?”

He gave a vague grunt and kept his eyes open for a few more moments until Iwaizumi left, presumably to find Oikawa.

It was practically a universally known fact that Kunimi Akira hated putting in effort. Waking up was not an exception.

“Kunimi-kun,” Kindaichi’s soft voice was accompanied with Akira being shoved off his futon, “Sorry. C’mon, you have to get up. Hey- no let go of your blanket! Kunimi- we’re going to get yelled at.”

In the end, Kyoutani ended up pinching Kunimi’s inner thigh, which led to Akira nearly kicking the spiker in the face. The smug look didn’t help, either. 

He glared at the blemish against his clear skin, especially in a place that rarely saw the light of day. The red imprint stood out against his pale skin. 

“I hate training camps.” 

* * *

“Oikawa-san, I think I just misheard you. Did you just say we’re going to a _beach?_ ” Akira asked incredulously.

“Yup!” the captain grinned, “As a sort of final goodbye! An ultra-short training camp, if you will!”

“You have exams _next week_ ,” Yahaba pointed out, “We don’t have any games until next semester either??"

“The nearest beach is an hour away.”

“Yes? We’ve had games that are further! Karasuno went all the way to Tokyo for a training camp, _Tokyo!_ ” Oikawa insisted. Akira just wanted to go home. “Besides, Coach Irihata already agreed! Saturday, bus is going to leave at 9, so get here at 8:30, yeah? Bring some money, a change of clothes, swim trunks, towel, anything! We’ll be returning at 7 after dinner. Got it? Alright, Seijoh on three! 1, 2, 3, Seijoh!”

They all clapped and dispersed, some staying behind for some individual practice, others hurrying into the locker room.

Akira had a headache already. There was imaginary sand in every crevice of his body, sweat trickling down his neck, and an unrelenting sun high in the sky, nevermind the fact that it was March.

Why were they going to the beach in March, again?

He should’ve given in to his urge to skip practice.

Akira hated the beach already. 

Regardless, two days later he found himself nearly nodding off on Kindaichi’s shoulder as the third years took their sweet time in settling on the bus, the rest of the team effectively trapped out, with the first years lingering in the back.

Not that Akira cared, but he really wanted to just go back to sleep. Kindaichi elbowed him in the side for the nth time trying to keep Akira awake. He made an irritated noise but kept his eyes open as they finally shuffled forward.

At last, Akira was able to pull a mask over his eyes and sink under the collar of his track jacket as a voice droned in the background. Finally.

He felt a slight pressure on his nose and suddenly his mask was torn from his face. Akira scowled at the sudden light. His eyes opened to see Oikawa tutting with the mask held in his hand.

“Pay attention, ‘Kira-kun!” he snapped, “Hey- you too Iwa-chan!”

He hated the nicknames Oikawa doled out like sweets. ‘Kira-kun’ was probably the most obnoxious thing Akira had ever been called. And that was including the time Kindaichi tried to call him “Aki-chan”.

“...-we clear? Alright, thank you!” Oikawa dropped the mask into Akira’s lap and patted his head as he passed.

As soon as Akira set foot on the beach a gust of wind picked up and swept a wave of sand into his face. He scowled. Kindaichi hummed next to him and dropped his bag on the ground, a fair distance away from the ocean. 

He kicked off his shoes and ran over to help their upperclassman string a net over two poles. 

Akira laid out his towel and dug through his bag to look for sunscreen. He hated the stuff, it was heavy on his skin, oily, and a nuisance to apply. At least it prevented him from freckling, though.

After 3 matches the clouds had parted in the face of its god and Akira was sweating far more than he should’ve. Being on the sand required more energy to move around, and there was always the chance somebody accidentally kicked up sand in your face while scrambling for the ball. 

Jumping was even more of a pain, the sand prohibiting him from getting a strong run up, especially as a wing spiker. 

He pulled off his shirt, relishing the cool air across his back. Change the shirt? No, Oikawa would probably pull them into more games that afternoon, conveniently deaf to their protests.

It wasn’t that Akira was self conscious of his body, he really didn’t care either way, but with his rather slim figure, standing next to people like Iwaizumi and Hanamaki made him feel incredibly small.

Which was saying something, seeing as he was about 20 centimeters taller than the average male.

“Hey, Kunimi-kun, do you want to-”

“No. I’m going to take a nap.”

“Kunimi-kun, the other first years are going to get lunch do you-”

“No, I’m going to take a nap,” with that Akira dropped and dozed off. 

When his eyes opened again the sun was already on the other side of the sky, and his back far too hot for his liking. And Akira was hungry. Very hungry. 

“Kira-kun! Have a nice nap? Oi, Mattsun! Kira-kun’s on your team- oh, what happened to your back?” Oikawa spewed a million words a minute, and suddenly he was leaning around Akira to glance at his back. Cold fingers prodded at his shoulder and Akira winced. “That’s a nasty sunburn. Didn’t you use sunscreen?”

He shrugged and craned his neck to look at his shoulders. They were probably going to start peeling tomorrow. 

Akira hated the beach.

* * *

"Kunimi-kun, get up."

"Eurgh," Akira tried to open his eyes, only to find an immediate pounding behind his eyes.

Ah, right. Somebody (read: Yahaba, trying to be a good captain) had the bright idea of throwing a party. Welcoming the new first years, 'team bonding,' and to quell the rising panic over upcoming exams.

Then, somebody else (read: Kyoutani, the _responsible senpai he is_ ) thought it was a _brilliant_ idea to smuggle in some alcohol.

An empty house, 12 underage teenagers (3 first years at their senpais' beck and call), alcohol, what could've gone wrong?

This. This is what. Akira would very much love to roll over and perish, please.

But alas, thoughtful peer Kindaichi would not allow it.

"Kunimi- I know you're awake, stop ignoring me."

"Let me die."

"No! My mom's calling and I don't know what to tell her- stop giggling! Help me- oh here she is again!" Kindaichi hissed, shoving his phone into his hands.

"H...hello?" Akira put on his best "it is 10 in the morning and I am very much a productive citizen" voice. He pressed the hell of his palms to his eyes, which did nothing to help his headache.

"Yuutarou?"

He covered the microphone, "Wait, what did you tell her we were doing?"

"I told her I was at a friend's studying! She knows we have exams soon."

"Sorry, Kindaichi-kun is in the shower right now. It's Kunimi," he lied swiftly. A relieved sigh sounded.

"Oh, Kunimi-kun! Sorry for bothering you, just wanted to check up on Yuutarou! Do you know when he'll be home?"

"He should be home before noon, is that alright?"

"Yes, perfect! And Kunimi-kun? You don't need to lie next time, I know you weren't studying. Just use protection."

A click and the phone disconnected.

"What."

He stared at the flip phone. It was snatched out of his hand by Kindaichi, red in the face.

"Excuse me?"

"Uhh," he coughed, "N-nothing!"

He scrambled away and ducked into the kitchen. _Use protection...?_ Oh.

_Oh._

Akira hated parties. Never again.

* * *

“Hey… Akira. Let go of me, I have morning class,” Yuutarou pulled at the arm wrapped around his waist. His boyfriend shifted for a moment before detaching himself from Yuutarou’s body, rolling over to his other side.

“Exactly why I made sure not to have any,” he mumbled. Yuutarou softened at the sight and pressed a kiss to Akira’s shoulder before rolling out of bed, yawning. 

He turned around in the doorway and sighed. Dark brown hair, sticking up where it had been pressed against Yuutarou’s chest, fair skin, with a small mole where Akira’s neck met his torso. 

Umber eyes met Yuutarou’s gaze, along with a lazy drawl, “Thought you had class?”

All these years, and he still hasn’t changed.

**Author's Note:**

> Pt.... 3? 4? Of writing when I was supposed to be in class and/or doing work. Pt. 4 of "I am shit at naming things" It's messy and just fluff, I suppose. I also didn't swear at all during the fic, are you proud of me? Well, until the notes. I generally tend to keep 'in character' (how I interpret the characters, of course) with internal thoughts and narration, which is why there wasn't any cursing, as opposed to my Oikawa and Suga fics. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed! Liked it or hated it, please let me know, thanks :)


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